


...they make it permanent

by Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)



Series: Homecoming [10]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut, present fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/Kavi%20Leighanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Permanence. Because that's what it's all about, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	...they make it permanent

**Author's Note:**

> Super special present oneshot for Lea, my dear darling Head Minion, whom I love from here until the end of time. 
> 
> For all of you put up with, hon. The capitals, the flailing and the self-deprecation and belief that I cannot do what you always say I can.

Sometimes it hits him like a ton of bricks. She’s here. She’s stateside. For good.

It’s still entirely surreal sometimes, like it shouldn’t be possible. Like he’ll wake up and she won’t be beside him, she’ll be across the ocean again.

Except so far that hasn’t been the case. She walks beside him now, hand tucked securely in his as they climb the steps to his apartment. Her eyes are filled with happiness and laughter, a look that he likes much better than the broken one from so many months ago. She looks beautiful.

“Hey,”she murmurs, slips in front of him as they come up to his apartment. “Where did you go?”

He does this sometimes, loses himself in the what ifs and maybes that haven’t happened yet. His momentum, her momentum, ends up with her back against his door. He follows, pinning her there, pressing his hips into hers.

“Nowhere,”he tells her, right against her mouth. He kisses her, reveling in the way her hands come up to press against his chest, just to touch. He dips into her mouth, thrilling at the contented sigh she releases. He loves the way her body relaxes into his, the way she sways into the press of his body. He smiles against her mouth, slips his hands to her cheeks, dances his fingertips along her cheekbone to her ears.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,”she replies when they break, arching her hips into his. She can feel his erection, he knows.

His breath catches and he pins her hips against the door. She destroys him, he thinks. She rips him open faster than Jack, sees right to his fierce and battered heart. He laughs a little, presses a kiss like butterfly wings against her cheek.

“Not out here, sweetheart,”he says, lets his breath fan down her neck. It sends a shiver drilling down her spine that he feels at every contact point. God, he loves what he does to her, the way he can watch desire darken her eyes. He digs in his pocket for his keys, tries to ignore the very deliberate way she lines her body up with his as she arches tantalizingly against him.

“Another time then,”she murmurs and he feels the thrill that shoots through him. She laughs, low in her throat.

“An exhibitionist, Aaron?”

He slips the key in the lock as he leans down to nip at her throat. She gasps. He grins.

“Not when it comes to you. Inside.”

He doesn't want to share her, not once and not ever again. His hands grip her hips as he follows her into his apartment, keeps her close as he closes the door and sets the alarm. He wants her, wants every perfect inch of her pressed as close as he can get her. His hands slide around, press against her stomach. Her dress is soft under her palms, sexy and he hears the way her breath hitches.

Except then she's out of his arms, heels kicked off at his feet. She giggles, a sound so girlish in a woman so impossibly sexy. He grins, gives her both dimples.

"What are you up to, sweetheart?"

His voice is low, thick. He can see the way awareness and heat flood her eyes, the way her body tenses as he advances on her. Oh. She's going to make him work for this. His possessive instincts flare to life followed closely by the hunter. He will catch her, he always does.

She squeals when he gives chase, laughs as they race through the kitchen. He almost has her at the island, but she slips easily from his grip darting back through the living room again. He's forgotten how fast she is, how wily. Still, he's laughing as she races down the hall towards the bedroom. He catches her there, an arm around her waist as he tackles them to the bed. Her body shivers with laughter and adrenaline, then with arousal as he presses his mouth to her neck, nips as her throbbing pulse.

"Thought you could escape?" he asks, his hands creeping down over her stomach. He slips his fingers beneath the hem of her dress and dances his fingertips up her thigh. Her dress comes with his hands, slow, methodical, teasing, until he can get his fingers along the crease of her thigh. There's no fabric, he realizes, just the tease of scorching heat and wetness.

"Oh, sweetheart," he croons. "No panties?"

She moans in reply, arching her hips for more. But she started this game and he's hellbent on finishing it. He shifts them, rolling her to her back as he looms over her. He shoves the skin tight dress above her hips, up her stomach and over her breasts. Her curls bounce against her shoulders as the dress comes over her head and he stares greedily at every bare inch of her.

"Emily," he whispers. She does this to him, makes him forget that there's anything else in this world but him and her. He palms her hips, slides his hands up her sides, traces each rib and up further until he's got her face in his palms.

"Aaron," she whispers, one hand sliding up into his hair. She tugs his face down to hers, kisses him with everything she's worth. He hums into her mouth, explores each and every inch of her taste before he trails kisses down her neck. He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucks once, hard, just to hear her keen. She likes it rough, his Emily, but there's a playfulness in her tonight that he is more than willing to indulge. His tongue dances over her skin, up to that four-leaf clover she still hasn't removed. He thinks she can't decide, that she likes the proof of where she came from, how hard she fought. How she got here.

It makes him a bit possessive, to be honest because she is his. Not Doyle's, not Easter's, his.

He sucks a mark right above that scar, another one just below it. It's plain and simple possession, really, and she arches beautifully beneath him. It's a thrill in it's own right, he thinks, that he can turn such a calm, controlled woman into this pleasured creature.

Her eyes are dark, hot as he raises his head from her chest, meets her gaze. Her fingers slide through his hair. "More."

He puts his mouth back on her breast, drags his palm back down her stomach until he can slide his fingers so softly through her wet folds. Her hips stutter, he can actually feel her heart jump under his mouth. He grins into her skin, teases as her core, circles around her clit until she's whining.

"Is that what you want, sweetheart?" he grumbles into her skin, bites another mark under her breast. The whine turns into a constant keen as he presses in just right. Her hand scratches against his scalp and he chuckles into her stomach, watching her hand fist in the sheets. Her hips are rocking fitfully into his touch, her stomach shivering beneath his mouth. He hums into her skin and finally slips a finger into her. She clenches down on him immediately, her keen hitching for a moment before she releases the hottest sigh. She almost relaxes at the touch, right until he slides in another finger, fills her up, then crooks his fingers forward.

Her hips rocket off the mattress and the keen comes back, louder and longer. He watches as she fucks herself on his fingers, as she reaches for that pleasure. He gives it to her with his thumb, pressing down just to the top left of her clit. He rubs once, twice and watches her rocket over that edge into her first climax. His mouth is gentle against her stomach as she relaxes, butterfly wings against her skin. She hums and strokes her fingers through his hair.

And he blows a raspberry into her belly button.

She erupts into gales of laughter, her body convulsing in a whole different way. He chuckles as she catches her breath.

"What was that for?" she asks, eyes bright and glazed.

Because he wants the playfulness back, wants to keep that light element. Everything about them, about their sex life in the last three months, has been heavy, deep. Has felt like they're trying to grab onto each other like they're apparitions. This is the first time he's felt like there's real joy in what they're doing, beyond the desperate happiness that has permeated everything else.

He doesn't say anything like that though. Instead, he says, "Because you're beautiful when you laugh."

He gets the widest grin, her hand slipping down his head until she strokes at the back of his ear. "Love you," she murmurs.

"Love you, too."

And he ducks his head between her thighs.

He uses her surprise to shoulder his way down, to get her legs over his shoulders so she can settle in. Then he proceeds to drive her insane. He wraps his mouth around her clit, licks and sucks in all the ways he knows she likes. He drives his tongue into her centre until she cannot breathe from the pleasure spiking through her and right when she starts begging, when she tells him she can't take anymore, he slides two fingers back inside and sends her screaming into orgasm number too.

It takes her longer this time, in part because he keeps his mouth on her, sends aftershocks shooting through her system until she actually has to yank his head from her core. He shushes her then, whispers into her thigh how gorgeous she is, how much he loves her and how lucky he is to have her.

“There you are,”he says as she finally catches her breath, his thumb brushing gently at the hollow of her hip. “Hi.”

“Hi,”she replies with a happy smile, reaching for him. He comes easily, sliding into her arms and pressing his mouth to hers. She tastes herself on his tongue and her smile widens. It makes kissing awkward, but she just doesn’t care. Her tongue battles his as she slides her hand down and wraps her fist around him.

"Emily," he groans, because giving her pleasure is an aphrodisiac of epic proportions and if she keeps this up, he'll be coming on the sheets rather than inside her. And he definitely wants the latter. "Sweetheart, slow down."

She moans into his mouth, whimpers when he actually reaches down and gets a hold on her wrist. "Want you."

"And you can have me." He punctuates his words with his hips, sliding along her centre. She is absolutely soaked now, two orgasms later, and the slickness makes him groan into her neck. "Jesus."

"Mm, not quite." She takes his head in her hands, makes him look at the way her pupils have dilated almost completely black. "Come on, honey. Inside. Please."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He slips inside her easily, too easily since he'd wanted to take it slow, make her feel every inch. It doesn't work though and he slides to the hilt as she gasps.

"There you are," she whispers, wrapping her arms and legs around him. "Hi."

He kisses her then, skips over her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids. She giggles brightly, such a happy sound that he finds that two-dimpled smile blossoming over his face again. She looks utterly besotted as he pulls back, all of the love and the joy spread over her face and he feels his chest crack. She already lives therm right next to his heart, but every time they're like this it feels new and old simultaneously, like he can never get enough of her, wants her tumbling over that edge, but wants to hold onto this, this intimacy and love, with both hands and his teeth.

"Emily," he murmurs. "I love you. So much."

"I know," she replies easily. "I know you do. Now show me."

He slides out of her as slow as he can stand, then back in so she feels all of him it's easier this time since he knows what he's getting into, what to anticipate as he pushes back in. She meets his thrust with her hips and a whimper. Her arms and thighs shake around him and he leans down to kiss her ear, her jaw, her throat.

"Sweetheart," he croons desperately. "Emily, come on. Let go. Again. I want to see you explode beneath me, feel you flutter around me."

"Aaron," she moans. "God, Aaron."

She's still so damn sensitive from two orgasms that it really doesn't take long. She cries out as he sends her over for the third time and he follows close on her heels, the feeling of her hot and slick too much for him.

Later, when they've managed to catch their breath, shower, and change the sheets, Emily curls tightly into his side. "I could stay here forever."

His heart leaps, his lungs clench and he has to swallow as she looks up at him in surprise and confusion.

"Why don't you?" he chokes out. They should have thought of it sooner, he thinks. He should have just moved her right in when she returned stateside. He's given her space hadn't he? Space while she was an ocean away.

But what it comes down to at the end of the day is that he wants her there. He wants her clothes strewn about his floor because she can never decide on an outfit in the morning. He wants to hear her exasperated voice telling him to just put his coffee mug in the dishwasher in the morning. He wants to come home from a case to find her curled up on the couch with Jack, sobbing over his sleeping body because Wall-E is the saddest movie she's ever seen.

"Stay," he says. "I'll get you a key, make space for you in the closet."

“You already have,” she says with a laugh. “I’m already here more than I’m at my place.”

“Exactly.” He slips his fingers beneath her chin so he can tilt her head up. He wants to look her in the eye when he says this. “Stay here. Permanently.”

Her breath catches, but the hope that flares over her face is more beautiful, more wonderful than her face when he sends her hurtling over the edge of climax. His heart thumps heavily in his chest, even as he sees the answer written clear as day over her face.

“Yes,” she says. “Of course yes.”


End file.
